


Finding Home

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (dean is between eleven and thirteen when things happen), Age Difference, Age Swap, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Daddy Kink, Daddy Sam, Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Sam tries to have morals, Underage Sex, Werewolves, Young Dean Winchester, but Dean is making it very difficult, in which daddy!wolf!Sam adopts baby!wolf!Dean, like VERY underage this is a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean doesn't remember his birth parents.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He’s not sure if he blacks out from the water in his lungs or the sheer terror overpowering him, but the last thing he feels is a strong pair of jaws closing around him, impossibly gentle.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sofarfromshameless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofarfromshameless/gifts).



> So this is a result of the oh-so-lovely [Samma](www.bigbrothersam.tumblr.com) telling me about things she wanted in a fic and me wanting to do a Christmas thing for her (and wanting to write some of these kinks generally). Biggest warning here is underaged, and... pseudo-incest, I guess? Which is basically a given with Wincest, anyways, but. Heads-up for that. A lot of fluff, a lot of porn, enjoy yourselves, friends.

Dean can’t remember his birth parents. He doesn’t know what happened to them, exactly, just that one day he found himself in the arms of a new mother, a new father standing nearby, and they’d smelled good and warm and safe but undeniably _different._ Even at three years old and able to talk when he wants to and even walk all by himself, he’s not entirely sure where he came from. His parents- because they _are_ his now, he thinks- don’t talk about it, and he doesn’t ask. He tries not to wonder why they smell so different, or why he can feel something inside him that itches to go outside and just _run_ , even if it’s cold and he’s not allowed out by himself, anyways.

He ignores it, though. He ignores it because his mother- his new mother, anyways- gets a pinched sort of look on her face when he asks to go outside, asks why his clothes are so scratchy and bright and artificial. Asks why everything smells _wrong._

Dean’s taken to a doctor once or twice, but they can’t seem to find anything wrong. They seem briefly concerned that he has a fever, but it’s dismissed quickly enough that it doesn’t become an issue.

None of it does, not really. Not until July 17th, when he’s four-and-a-half and the most important thing to him is quelling that ever-present itch and that he’s allowed outside now, as long one or both of his parents are nearby (they thwart his plan to run off into the woods pretty quickly, ask him what he was doing and they sound scared, they _smell_ scared, but he doesn’t have a good answer for them), and he’s _so close_ but it doesn’t feel right. Not playing in their backyard under strict supervision, not all dressed up in his striped t-shirt and khaki shorts.

But July 17th is different. Dean gets closer to running off than he ever has before, gets all of five feet into the woods their property backs onto, gets a good, deep whiff of the trees and the leaves and something _other_ , something he can’t quite put his finger on but it’s alive and it’s real and it smells better than any of the people he’s ever met, but then his father- not his father, he knows, but the man who’s filling the role for now- appears, scoops him up in his arms, scolds him for running off. Dean’s carried back to the house, taken inside, told he’s grounded because they told him he had to stay close, they’ve been telling him for days, why can’t you just _listen_ , Dean.

He’s on the verge of tears by the time he’s left in his room, and he’s not a baby anymore, he _isn’t_ , but he doesn’t know why they can’t just _understand._ He needs the outdoors, needs it like he needs air and food and water, and they’re taking it away from him and he doesn’t know _why_.

In hindsight, it’s probably this distress that causes the mess that begins with him waking up to the sound of his mother’s screams.

Dean goes to sit up in bed, but he very quickly realizes that something’s wrong. No, not wrong, because he feels more _right_ than he has as long as he can remember. Because Dean is still Dean, but he’s _changed,_ he’s different, he has four legs and soft fur and when he looks up at his mother, tries to tell her that it’s okay, all that comes out is a soft whine, a not-quite-human sound.

She’s screaming for her husband then, and he’s appearing a moment later looking confused and then scared and then _angry_ , and before Dean knows what’s happening he’s being roughly picked up by the scruff of his neck, and he yelps in surprise and fear and then he’s being carried, and then there’s a bag and he’s inside and he’s so damn _scared._

He can hear his parents- not his parents, just the stand-ins who were supposed to take care of him, he thinks- talking, hears words like _monster_ and _freak_ and _river_. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, where they’re taking him or why, but of all things, it’s his new shape that’s the least confusing. It feels familiar and safe, and he curls up tight, tries not to let his whimpers escape.

Dean isn’t sure how much time passes. All he’s aware of is the way the bag swings with the movement of whoever’s carrying it, and after a while, what smells like… water, he thinks. Water and outside, mostly, and he didn’t have very much time to wonder about it because he can hear his not-parents speaking again.

“Maybe we could just let him go-” 

“And what? Let him become a killer?” His not-father snorts. “You know we have to do this.”

There’s no more discussion after that- or, if there is, Dean doesn’t hear it, because he’s flying, the bag thrown, and then it’s _cold_ and there’s water everywhere like the bath but bigger and deeper and so fast and he’s panicking, trying to move, but he’s tangled in the bag and he’s breathing in water and-

And he’s not sure if he blacks out from the water in his lungs or the sheer terror overpowering him, but the last thing he feels is a strong pair of jaws closing around him, impossibly gentle.

-

Dean’s pretty sure not a lot of time has passed since he was in the water, since he was drowning, because he wakes up coughing, hacking up water out of his lungs, and he’s cold and wet and… not alone.

He doesn’t open his eyes at first, scared that his not-parents are back, but then he inhales and he doesn’t know the scent but it smells like the forest. Smells like freedom and protection and home.

Before he even makes the decision to open his eyes, there’s a warm, rough tongue rasping over him, up his chest, getting rid of the cold water and making his fur stand up funny. He cracks his eyes open, then, and they go wide with wonder.

There’s a wolf hovering over him, a big one- much bigger than he is, so much older, probably, even if they’re the same species right now. He’s male, Dean thinks, and he’s got chestnut fur and hazel eyes that move to meet his, stare at him unblinkingly for a long moment. He ducks down and licks Dean again a moment later, right between his ears, and Dean squeaks in surprise.

 _I was worried I’d lost you, pup._ Dean doesn’t know how he hears the words, but they’re in his mind and his eyes go a little wide as he hears them. _Don’t be frightened. I’ll get you cleaned up and we can find your pack again._

Before Dean knows what’s going on, he’s being gently nosed onto his belly, and then he’s picked up, small body held limp in the other wolf’s mouth, and even with the teeth he can feel pricking at him, he feels safer than he has all day.

 _My name’s Sam_ , the voice continues a moment later as he starts walking, away from the river and towards where the trees become thick. _I’ll keep you safe._

Dean suddenly realizes how tired he is. It’s still nighttime, and he’s worn out from the near-drowning, and the gentle swaying motion of Sam’s movement is lulling his eyes shut. All he really manages before passing out properly is a thought, not so much his own this time, one he intends for Sam.

_I’m Dean._

He slips out of consciousness to what sounds like a soft, sad, _you’re so little…_

-

The next time Dean wakes up, he’s somewhere warm and dry and it smells like smoke, like the outdoors, like Sam. He blinks his eyes open, sniffles a little and sits up. He’s still in his other shape, he knows, a wolf like Sam, but it doesn’t bother him. He looks around, spots a fire a moment later. It’s giving off the warmth and a soft, flickering light. Dean realizes his fur is mostly dry now, and he’s not shivering like he was before, and the next thing he becomes aware of is the human man in the room.

Not human, he decides a moment later. Not entirely. He recognizes Sam’s scent with surprising ease, and there’s something familiar about his shape, the full muscled length of him wearing just a pair of rough-woven pants as he crouches over the fire, and his hair’s the same and when he looks up at Dean suddenly, his eyes are the same, too.

Sam smiles then, looks relieved and happy and he heads over, sits down in front of Dean. Dean considers restraining himself, but he’s climbing up into Sam’s lap a moment later, can’t quite resist his warmth and his touch and his scent. Sam saved him, rescued him from the river, and he seems kind and that’s all Dean needs to know.

Sam lets out a soft laugh, adjusts so Dean can be more comfortable, moves to rub behind his ears in a way that makes Dean whine softly, stretch out in place. “You scared me,” he says softly, the relief evident in his voice. “Thought I was gonna lose you to the cold. You seem better now, though.”

Dean just yawns, closes his eyes and curls up comfortably in Sam’s lap. The man continues a moment later, sounds a little more hesitant. “Do you wanna tell me what happened? With the bag.” His voice is a little rough, Dean thinks, wonders why that is. “And- I mean, no offense, but you kinda smell like-” Sam wrinkles his nose a bit, says the next word like it’s something distasteful. “Humans.”

Dean opens his eyes again, then, rolls a little until he can blink up at Sam. He isn’t sure if the thought thing will still work like this, but it’s not like he’s got another choice.

 _Mommy and Daddy threw me away._ That’s all he can interpret this as. _Called me bad things._

For a moment, Dean wonders if he should be scared of Sam. There’s anger obvious on his face for a moment, more than that, _rage_ , and he thinks maybe he’s imagining the crimson bleeding into his eyes. It’s gone a moment later, though, as Sam blinks a few times, looks away and takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore,” Sam promises quietly. He gathers Dean into his arms, holds him close to his chest. “M’gonna keep you safe, pup. I promise.”

Dean sniffles again, presses his nose into Sam’s neck. He smells even better up close. 

Sam laughs softly, sets Dean down a moment later. Dean whines in protest, but Sam shushes him. 

“Hold on, sweetheart.” Sam turns his back for a moment, strips his pants off before he’s transforming. It’s graceful, practiced, and Dean watches with wide eyes when Sam settles again on four paws, turning back to face him.

 _You should rest,_ Sam’s voice tells him, laying down. Dean takes the unspoken invitation and hurries over, almost tripping over his own paws in his haste to settle down in the protective curve of the older wolf’s body. He tucks himself against Sam’s side, gets good and comfortable, and Sam shifts a little, curls himself around Dean. _Sleep, pup. I’ll be here when you wake up._

Maybe he’s getting attached too quickly, but Dean’s lost everything in the last several hours and Sam’s offering to give some of it back. He’s ready to latch onto any form of comfort at this point, and the warmth Sam's giving off combined with his calming scent are more than enough to have Dean closing his eyes again, yawning silently and snuffling at Sam’s fur. 

_Goodnight, little one,_ Sam says, softer than before. Dean wonders if he can tell he’s falling asleep. _Sleep well. No harm will come to you._

Dean feels a soft, rasping lick up between his ears before he finally drifts into a proper sleep.

-

Sam hasn’t moved by the time Dean wakes up again, tiny jaws opening wide in a yawn as he presses a little closer. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and then he opens his eyes, meeting Sam’s that are shining with amusement.

 _Morning_ , Sam greets, ducking down to lick the top of Dean’s head again. Dean wonders if it’s going to be a regular thing, and decides he doesn’t mind it at all. _Feel better?_

Dean considers that for a moment and nods, yawning again as he stretches out his body. He’s still a wolf, and he wonders why, wonders if he should be able to shift as easily as Sam had, and he tries concentrating for a moment before giving up, letting himself go limp again. He hears Sam huff, probably the closest he can come to laughing in this form.

It’s the first time Dean really wonders why he’s like this, if maybe it has something to do with why his not-parents threw him away. He looks up at Sam again, a question in his eyes, but before he can ask, the older wolf seems to understand.

 _You don’t know how you shifted, do you?_ It doesn’t sound like he really means it like a question, though, so he continues. _You’re like me. A were. Werewolf, to be exact. Your parents probably were, too. The real ones._ Dean tries to remember them for a moment, but quickly gives up. _This might be the first time you’ve shifted. Most can’t control it for a little while._

It kind of makes sense, Dean thinks, because he’s little and he knows there’s lots of stuff he can’t do yet. But he did shift, and now he’s a wolf, and he wonders how long it’s going to be until he changes back. What if he never learns how to control it and he’s stuck like this forever? 

Sam seems to sense his mounting panic, because he continues a moment later. _You’re still a wolf because you don’t feel safe. Your instincts are telling you that this is the best way to protect yourself._ He pauses, licks down the length of Dean’s spine. Dean wiggles a little at the tickly feeling. _You’ll shift again soon._

Dean decides it’s enough reassurance for now, just nods a little bit before settling down. He’s decided to trust Sam, at least for the moment, so he figures he can hang around until he does something to change that.

-

As it turns out, Sam does nothing of the sort.

Two weeks have passed, and the man- wolf- the _were_ has done nothing but be kind to Dean. After learning that Dean doesn’t have a pack to go home to- or any family at all, for that matter- he seems to have taken it upon himself to adopt him, treating him as his own even though they’ve just met and really barely know each other.

Dean’s had the talk about _stranger danger_ before, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s never met anyone he feels quite as safe with as he does with Sam, the only possible exception being his real parents. He can’t really remember them, though, so if they took the time to show him around, teach him things, curl up around him so he’s warm and safe every night, then he doesn’t know any better.

In short, Dean is definitely feeling safe. And happy, for the most part. The thing that’s still frustrating him, though, is that he _still hasn’t shifted._

He’s tried, of course. Tried until he makes his own head hurt and Sam has to sit him down and scold him gently, reminding him that it’ll happen in its own time as he licks soothingly over his fur. Sam seems to do that a lot, whether he likes giving Dean baths or just the comfort that goes along with them.

Dean knows he should be patient, but he’s starting to get worried that he’ll never change back all over again. And as nice as it is to be a wolf, to be able to run around on four legs and climb all over Sam and whatever else is in his general vicinity, he can’t help but miss being human, too. He’s always a little jealous when he sees Sam shift like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and he’s always quickly reassured that Sam’s had _years_ of practice, that it’s second nature to him now.

All the same, Dean can’t help but be a little worried. 

Sam catches him trying to shift again a little while later, concentrating hard and only succeeding in frustrating himself, slumping down and making a sad whimpering sound. Sam frowns a little bit, walks over and leans down to scoop Dean up in his arms, human for the moment, and shushes him as he rubs at Dean’s ears.

“Give it time, little one,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dean’s nose. It tickles, and Dean sneezes a moment later, making Sam laugh. “It’ll happen when you’re ready. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

The words work to calm Dean down a little, and he settles into Sam’s arms, closes his eyes and nuzzles in close. Sam seems to know what he’s talking about, so he decides to trust him on this.

-

There’s nothing abnormal about this morning in particular, and Dean doesn’t really understand why everything feels different as he opens his eyes slowly, blinks the sleep out of them, not until Sam’s tongue rasps over his head and he giggles. _Giggles_ , a human sound, and his eyes go wide as he looks down at his own hands, realizing that they’re just that, human. Tiny and pink and he looks up at Sam with wonder.

Sam adjusts his position a little, sits up, then he’s shifting and a moment later there’s a human man cradling him in his arms, smiling hugely and holding him close. “Why, where did this little human boy come from? I swear I had a pup last night.”

He ducks his head down to press a smattering of kisses over Dean’s chest and tummy, and they have Dean squirming, giggling and grabbing at Sam’s face playfully. He likes this, he thinks, likes that Sam already seems so much more affectionate than his not-parents have ever been. He nuzzles in close, mumbles something incoherent and happy into Sam’s neck while he’s bounced in Sam’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmurs, one hand moving to rub Dean’s back. “I’ve got you, Dean. Gonna take good care of you, baby.”

Dean coos, wraps chubby arms around Sam’s neck to hold him tight. He nuzzles in close, nosing against Sam’s neck. “Kay,” he mumbles. He hasn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to Sam until now, except for the mental link they seem to have. He decides it’s a good idea to take the opportunity to express how he feels. “Thank you,” he says, voice still soft, muffled against Sam’s skin. “For savin’ me and stuff.”

Dean feels the press of lips against the top of his head, and he smiles, closes his eyes. “You’re welcome,” Sam murmurs, hugs him a little tighter. “I’m glad I found you. It was getting a little lonely around here.”

The words make Dean wonder, remember what Sam had mentioned earlier about having a pack, and then he’s thinking about the fact that Sam seems to be all on his own even though it apparently isn’t the norm. He’s too distracted by Sam’s warmth and scent, though, to think about it too hard.

-

Sam doesn’t leave Dean for long stretches of time until he’s settled properly, makes sure Dean is comfortable with it before setting out to- in his words- “get some food for us, pup.” They’ve been working through some of Sam’s stored food, dried out meats and berries, and he seems to think that fresh food is going to better for both of them. Dean’s reluctant to let him go, but he wants to be good for Sam, so he nods and lets himself be cuddled before he’s set down and Sam promises to be back soon, shifts onto four legs and runs off.

For a few minutes, Dean just wanders around the little den, sniffing at everything he’s already had a chance to explore and prowling around the bed of furs, the currently extinguished fire pit. He noses through a pile of folded clothes that Sam sometimes uses if he plans to be in his human form for a little while, chuffs happily at the familiar smell. Even if he’s only been here for a couple weeks, he already trusts Sam, feels more at home with him than he ever had with the humans he used to live with. He can’t quite bring himself to associate them with the word _parents_ anymore, not after what happened with the river.

Sam tried to explain it to him, a little while back. That humans tend to be scared of things that are different, that they probably assumed he was human, too, until he shifted. Dean’s not sure he understands, still doesn’t get how they could be so cruel for something so simple as whether he’s fully human or not, but he’d nodded along as Sam spoke, all the same.

Dean decides those things don’t matter right now. He has Sam, which is what’s important, and even though Sam’s not here for the moment, Dean is perfectly content with the knowledge in and of itself. He settles down to wait, finds a particularly round rock to amuse himself with.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but he smells Sam before he sees him, accompanied by something no longer alive that still smells warm and tasty. Dean bounds out of the den to meet Sam, only pauses at the entrance a moment (he hasn’t spent much time outside since being rescued) before scampering a little closer, weaving between Sam’s legs and sniffing him all over.

Sam sounds amused in his mind. _Did you miss me, pup?_

Dean absolutely did, and he whines, butting his head into one of Sam’s legs on his way inside. Sam makes a sound, the huff of breath that Dean has come to interpret as a wolfy sort of laugh, drags the deer he’s killed along with him into the shelter of their home. 

Dean follows along the whole way, watches curiously as Sam sets the animal down near the fire pit before shifting. He crouches down to accept Dean into his arms, smiles and hold him close. “I missed you, too,” he says, matter-of-fact, then gently sets Dean down. “Do you want to watch? I have to get the meat off the bones.”

As it turns out, Sam does a lot more than that. He skins the animal first while Dean watches, eyes a little wide with fascination. Sam works efficiently, separates the fur and sets it aside, apparently to be dealt with later. He handles the meat next, gets a fire going as he works so he can dry out what they won’t use right away with the smoke. The whole process, Dean thinks, is very interesting, and he sticks close to Sam’s side as he works, tries to memorize everything he does. By the end of it, they’ve got fresh meat to eat now, drying meat to store away for later, and furs that Sam sets out on a rack to be dried, as well, ready for use as clothes or bedding.

“The bones can be used for any number of things,” Sam’s saying as he cleans and dries them. “Knives, plates. Whatever we need them for.”

The ones he intends to keep are set aside, ready for whatever purpose they may be able to serve. “We don’t put anything to waste. This animal gave its life to sustain us, so we’re going to respect it by making sure its entire body is put to use. Do you understand?”

Dean nods, eyes wide with rapt attention. He follows on Sam’s heels as he gets everything laid out as need be, and when Sam finally finishes, he makes a sound of surprise as he’s scooped up. He’s been a wolf for a little while, shifting still not entirely under his own control, but when Sam picks him up and hugs him close, he finds himself becoming human a moment later, takes the opportunity to hug Sam tight in return. 

“Thanks for wanting to learn,” Sam says, voice soft. “Not all weres think the way I do.” Dean wonders why, when it seems like the obvious way to live, but then Sam’s continuing. “Would you… I mean, do you want to meet them? There’s a couple packs in the area, and I bet they’d like to meet you.”

Dean’s a little hesitant at first. “Would you… come with me?” he asks, unsure. He doesn’t want Sam to leave him alone with unfamiliar people, even if they’re only half-people like he is.

“Of course,” comes the immediate response, complete with a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll be with you the whole time, Dean. And it’s completely up to you. Promise. We could always meet them later, anyways.”

It’s only after a long moment of hesitation that Dean nods slowly, hugs Sam a little tighter. “Okay,” he agrees, because he thinks he’ll be able to handle it as long as he’s not alone.

Sam smiles, swings him around a little in his arms. “Then we’ll go in a couple days,” he decides, nodding. “If that sounds okay.”

It does, Dean thinks, and later that night, as they’re settling down for bed, he’s all tuckered out just from getting himself so worked up and excited about it. He snuggles into Sam’s side, both of them wolves as they usually are to sleep, and he yawns, closes his eyes and tucks himself in close. His usual goodnight is a little different, even if he doesn’t really intend it to be.

 _Night, Daddy._ He doesn’t even think about the words past that, wouldn’t consider them at all if it weren’t for the surprised pleasure he can feel radiating from Sam. A tongue rasps down along his spine, and he presses closer, already drifting off.

 _Goodnight, little one. Sleep well._ It’s the last thing he hears before he properly falls asleep, basking in the warmth and happiness that seem to be surrounding him.

-

Dean’s been with Sam for maybe half a year now, and they’ve settled into their routine with ease. Sam hunts more often, spends more time teaching Dean about the proper way to respect the animals they kill, makes sure that he understands how important it is not to waste anything. It’s also around this time that Dean finally decides to ask a question that’s been burning on his mind since Sam first mentioned it when he was found.

“You said there’s other people like us.” Dean’s human for the moment, curled up in Sam’s furry side as the older were licks him clean. He’s old enough to bathe himself, Sam says, but this is always what ends up happening, regardless. “Do… do the humans know? ‘Bout them?”

Sam only pauses a moment before continuing, licking down Dean’s chest now. _There are packs who live in these woods. We all stay separate from humans for the most part, but…_ There’s a pause, a bit of hesitation. _There are… incidents. Sometimes._

The words make Dean wonder, curious if maybe his not-parents knew what he was when they threw him away. It makes him remember something else, though. He’s perfectly happy just like this, with Sam and himself and no one else to worry about, but at the same time… he can’t help his curiosity. “You… said we could maybe go meet them, some time.”

Sam doesn’t pause this time, the answer coming right away. _Yes. I remember. Would you like to go soon?_

“Would it be okay?” Dean asks shyly, fingers curling in Sam’s fur absently as he speaks. 

Sam stops licking him for a moment in favour of nosing up under his chin, gentle and affectionate. _Of course, pup. Anything you want._

Dean doesn’t doubt the words, and he smiles, snuggles closer, closes his eyes. “Thanks, Daddy,” he yawns, settling down again. The promise is enough to keep him sated for now, so it’s easy to doze off under Sam’s gentle attentions.

-

It’s not for another while that they set out to meet with one of the nearby packs. More time passes, and Dean thinks he must be five by now, if Sam’s estimation of the date is correct. It’s almost like a little birthday present, Sam scooping Dean up to settle on his back, holding on tight with tiny fists buried in thick fur as he bounds through the woods. Dean has clothes of his own now, more similar to Sam’s than to anything he’d owned with his not-parents. They’re soft, thick, and lined with warm furs, staving off the chill that hangs in the early morning air.

It’s easy to ignore the cold when there are so many other things to think about. How fast they’re moving, how Sam feels with hard muscles flexing under soft fur, the way the world looks encased in ice. It’s fascinating to Dean, especially after so much time spent in the safety of their den, and he takes the opportunity to look around as Sam runs, eyes a little wide as he tries to drink it all in.

His only clue that they’re getting close is the sudden shift in scents. In addition to the cold crispness of the air, Dean’s starting to pick up more living things, things that smell sort of like Sam does, but individually different. He sits up a little straighter when Sam slows down, takes his chance to look around at the area they’re approaching.

Though they’re hard to pick out with the snow that blankets the ground, Dean suspects that there are a number of dens nearby. He can smell them, the weres who must live here, and he squints a little as he tries to spot some hint of them. He realizes where Sam’s headed a moment later, eyes widening a bit when he spots a log cabin, smoke curling up from its chimney. It smells sweet, Dean realizes when they get a little closer. It’s intriguing, and he finds himself scooting up a little farther on Sam’s back, as close as he can get for the moment.

By the time they’re within twenty feet of the log cabin’s front door, there are others starting to move around, wolves peeking out from dens, probably trying to decide whether or not Sam poses a threat. A moment later, Sam’s shifting, so smoothly that Dean’s still clinging to his back, arms looped around his neck and holding on tight, giggling. Sam laughs, too, only pauses a moment to pull on a pair of pants- he’d brought a bag of clothes expressly for that purpose- before continuing forward.

The door opens before they reach it, and there’s a man behind it, older, gruff, gives Sam a once-over before smiling warmly. “Finally decided to swing by again, did you, boy?” he asks, and that’s when he spots Dean. He raises his eyebrows, and Dean squeaks in fear, ducks down to hide his face in Sam’s neck. There’s a huff of laughter and then Sam’s grabbing him, cradling him close to his chest.

“This is Dean,” Sam explains as Dean peeks up from between his fingers before hiding again. “He, uh. He was living with a couple humans, the first time he shifted.” His voice goes quiet as he continues. “They tried to… get rid of him.”

Dean makes a soft sound of distress, remembering the cold water and the confining bag, curls closer to Sam. Sam shushes him gently, presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ve got you, pup, don’t worry,” he murmurs before turning his attention to the other man again. “He doesn’t have a pack. Might’ve, once, but not anymore. I couldn’t just leave him, so…” He smiles, then. “I’ve been taking care of him. Thought I’d bring him to meet everyone, now that he’s a bit older.”

The man nods, seems to step a little closer. “He’s a tiny one,” he notes, and Dean peeks his eyes open again. He smiles a little bit when the man moves to run a callus-roughened hand through his hair. “Nice to meet you, Dean. My name’s Bobby Singer.” He pauses, then, glances up at Sam again. “You told him how we work? In… biological terms?”

Dean’s confused, but Sam seems to know exactly what Bobby’s talking about. “I thought it could wait until he’s a little older,” Sam replies. “Especially if he’s not going to be around others too much.” He smiles a bit. “He’ll be able to tell the scents apart naturally, even if he’s spending all his time around alpha.”

Bobby snorts, shakes his head. “Right, well. Make sure he knows what he needs to once he starts presenting.”

Sam nods dutifully, and Dean furrows his brow in confusion. Before he can ask- he’s not sure what he _would_ ask, anyways- Bobby’s speaking again, offering his hand. “Anyways, like I said. Bobby. Nice to meet you, kid.”

Dean eyes Bobby’s hand unsurely for a moment, then slowly reaches out, grasps a couple of his fingers and looks up for approval. He smiles wide at the amusement evident on the man’s face, cuddles in close to Sam again when he laughs. 

Once introductions are made, Sam and Bobby take the time to show Dean around, introducing him to everyone. It’s a whirlwind of names and scents and information, and Dean spends the whole time clinging to Sam, not sure if he’s curious or frightened or some mix of the two. 

The scale seems to be tilting in the direction of fear for a while, though, when he’s led over to one small group in particular. He notices Sam seems to tense a little as they approach, and it has Dean on edge, has him eyeing the people there unsurely.

When they get closer, it’s easy to see that this group is a little different than the other weres they’ve met. They seem more… feral, somehow, in a way that has Dean clinging tight to Sam, letting out a sound that’s almost a whimper. He feels Sam’s grip on him tighten, and he murmurs a soft “I’m here, pup, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Gordon,” Bobby greets shortly when they get close enough. The man who looks up seems to be the leader of the little group, dark skin and a bit of a sneer on his face.

“S’that you, Sammy?” he asks, looking at Sam in a way that makes Dean uncomfortable. It only gets worse when his eyes settle on Dean. “Oh, and who’s this?” he purrs, stepping closer, and Dean whimpers again, presses himself close to Sam.

Sam’s voice isn’t like Dean’s ever heard it before, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “He’s mine,” he replies, icy, holds Dean tighter. “He’s under my protection, and he’s not a part of this pack.”

“Yours, huh?” Gordon snorts, shaking his head in apparent disappointment. “Guess that means you’ll be teaching him all your damn hippie habits, huh? Won’t grow up any good on your diet.”

“His growth is none of your business.” Sam scowls, rubs Dean’s back soothingly. “And it’s a better diet than your group live on.”

“You might not like it, but our kind were _meant_ to feed on humans.” Gordon sounds smug about it. “It’s what we were born to do, and you’re just going against your nature trying to do something different.”

Dean’s confused, now, because he doesn’t quite understand what Gordon’s talking about. They’re similar to humans, aren’t they? He doesn’t have time to ponder it further, because then Sam’s speaking again, and there’s no room in his voice for argument.

“Just because we _can_ hurt people, doesn’t mean we should. You have your beliefs, and I have mine.” He spins on his heel, Dean still clutched tight to his chest. “You’ll never lay a hand on him. Goodbye, Gordon.” 

With that, they’re leaving, only long enough for Bobby to murmur an apology and smile at Dean again before they’re heading back home.

Dean doesn’t want to think about Gordon anymore, so he doesn’t. He just settles on top of Sam on their way back, curls his hands in Sam’s fur again. “Are they your pack, Daddy?” he asks softly, halfway home.

Sam doesn’t reply for a moment, just continues running. _I don’t have a pack,_ comes the response eventually. _I haven’t for a long time. It’s just been me. But now- now it’s me and you, pup._

Dean smiles, nuzzles into Sam’s neck fur. “I like it this way,” he whispers. “Just us.” 

He likes it so much, in fact, that he’d be perfectly happy keeping it this way forever.

-

The years pass in an easy sort of comfort, with Dean adjusting to life in the woods and Sam teaching him everything there is to know about it. Dean picks up most of it quickly, learns to appreciate animal life the way Sam does, starts to get more used to living with the older were. He gets more comfortable calling Sam Daddy, never gets tired of how happy it seems to make him, and Sam settles into the role with enthusiasm.

Sam’s easy on him for the most part, has too much of a soft spot for Dean to bother with a whole lot of discipline, doesn’t even really bother getting Dean to clean up after himself, most of the time. He’s not exactly neat, by any standards, but Dean has a certain penchant for leaving everything everywhere, leaves he drags in on his fur and bits and pieces of animals that get scattered around. Sam always grumbles about having to clean up, about their den being messy, but all it takes is a sad look from Dean, tucking his tail between his legs, and Sam seems to decide it’s worth the extra effort. 

As he gets older, though, Dean starts to realize he has a bit of a problem. This problem, at its core, just so happens to be Sam.

It’s not that Dean doesn’t like him. Far from it, in fact. Dean’s nine years old when he finally decides that his feelings for his caretaker have become decidedly less than normal. They used to be a lot more innocent, the urges he got to be close to Sam, to curl up close and let himself be snuggled or licked clean. Now, though, he can’t help but notice how he’s seeing Sam differently, looking at the way he moves, how good it feels when Sam touches him in any capacity. 

What’s even more bothersome, he thinks, is how damn _good_ Sam smells. Of course Sam’s always smelled this way, but it’s not until recently that Dean’s really been noticing. All he wants to do some days is curl up with his nose pressed into Sam’s neck and breathe him in.

It doesn’t take a whole lot of thought to decide he shouldn’t share these feelings with Sam. Dean figures he can sort them out himself, without bothering Sam about them. With any luck, they’ll disappear completely, and he won’t have to worry about them anymore.

Dean manages to cling to that hope right up until he starts nearing puberty.

-

Dean’s ten years old, apparently, when something about his body starts to change.

He’s not the one who notices the difference, at first. It’s Sam who starts looking at him strangely, starts treating him a little different than he has been. He spends more time rubbing himself against Dean, something he later calls _scenting_ , always makes sure Dean’s good and drenched in his scent before so much as leaving the den. He’s more reluctant to let Dean go anywhere by himself, rarely lets him leave his sight, curls tight around him while they sleep in a gesture that straddles the line between protective and possessive.

Through it all, Dean can’t really find it in himself to mind.

It doesn’t mean he’s any less confused, though. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, not until he finally works up the ambition to actually ask.

They’re settling down for bed, and Sam’s going through his usual routine. He checks the perimeter of their den, makes sure the fire is set up properly, then returns to Dean where he’s already half-dozing in their nest of furs. Sam curls around him, noses at Dean’s neck and gives him one long, rasping lick before settling down.

Dean’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wants to ask as he stays pressed close to Sam. Eventually, he just goes for it. _Daddy? Why’re you treating me different?_

Sam seems almost surprised by the question, and it occurs to Dean that maybe he hadn’t even been aware of what he was doing. After a long moment of silence, though, as Sam apparently works through the words and tries to figure out what he’s done to warrant them, his eyes go wide in realization, and if anything, he curls around Dean a little tighter.

 _I’m sorry, Dean_ , is the first thing he responds with, which just serves to confuse Dean more. _I didn’t think. It’s… you’re getting older. Your body’s starting to change, and…_

Sam doesn’t continue for a long moment, and it prompts Dean to ask. _Change how?_

Sam huffs out a laugh, licks Dean between his ears the way he always has when he wants to soothe him. _It’s hard to explain. We’ll go visit Bobby’s pack tomorrow, and I’ll find someone to explain it to you, okay, pup?_

Even though Dean _is_ getting older, he’s never found it in himself to be irritated by the endearment. Even now, it warms something in his chest. _Okay_. The answer is enough to ease his curiosity for now, the promise of learning more keeping him calm and content as he starts to drift off. _Love you._

_Love you, too,_ he hears, and he smiles a little at the familiar rasp of Sam’s tongue.

-

They do end up making the trek to Bobby’s settlement the next day, Dean walking on his own four feet this time. It’s obvious that Sam’s slowing down on his account, but Dean doesn’t care, too caught up in the exhilarating feeling of running through the woods to be bothered if Sam’s taking it easy for him. They make it there soon enough, greeted by vaguely familiar scents and faces on their way to the log cabin.

After everyone’s shifted and gone through their usual greetings, Sam takes Bobby aside to talk about something at a low volume, something Dean evidently isn’t intended to hear. He considers listening in, since they’re obviously talking about him, whatever condition prompted Sam to bring him here in the first place, but he’s distracted following a scent back out the front door, letting himself wander a little.

Enough of the weres in the area recognize him that he’s left alone for the most part, given an occasional smile or friendly wave as he walks through the camp. He doesn’t intend to go too far, knowing Sam will be worried if he can’t find him, but he finds himself following the scent all the same. It’s a little bit like Sam’s, the way a sparrow is a little bit like a hawk, not nearly as inviting, but interesting all the same. He’s not sure how he ends up near the outskirts of the camp, but suddenly there’s someone approaching him, moving quickly, and Gordon’s up close before he can even think about turning around.

“Been a while since you’ve been here,” he says, smiling in a way that makes Dean shudder a little. Before he can get out a response, there’s a change in Gordon’s expression, something that becomes almost predatory, and he steps even closer, ducks down and inhales deeply.

“Should’ve known,” he purrs, and Dean wants to run, but can’t quite bring himself to move under the weight of Gordon’s stare. “You always did look like you’d turn out a bitch.”

Dean has all of three seconds to wonder about the words before there’s a familiar warmth pressing up behind him, and he can feel the snarl as it builds in Sam’s chest, presses back into him as strong arms snake around his waist.

“Thought I told you not to touch him,” Sam says, and his voice is quiet and dangerous as he pulls Dean close, nudges him to the side and slightly behind him.

Gordon snorts, stands up tall and puffs out his chest. Sam’s still bigger, and Dean might be a little biased, but he looks more threatening, too. Like he’d win if there was a fight. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to keep a tight leash on a bitch, kid?” he asks, leers at Dean.

“Don’t call him that,” Sam growls, takes on a more defensive stance as he shifts in front of Dean. “He’s not yours to even _think_ about.”

The tension is thick in the air, and Dean’s almost scared that there _will_ be a fight, because he can feel Sam almost vibrating with rage and Gordon looks ready to jump into the fray. They seem to be on the verge of lunging for each other’s throats until suddenly Bobby’s there, pushing between them, jaw tight and leveling a dark look at Gordon.

“Gordon, back off,” he snaps, and Gordon looks like he’s considering ignoring the order for a moment before Bobby snarls in warning. “You’re on thin ice already. Back. Off.”

Gordon throws one more look at Dean before huffing and turning away, shifts smoothly before bounding off somewhere. Bobby watches him go before turning back to Sam and Dean, sighing.

“Sorry about him. Again,” he says, shaking his head. “You alright, kid?”

It takes Dean a moment to realize he’s being spoken to, and he nods a little, even as he presses closer to Sam’s side, curls in close and breathes his scent in to calm himself down. “M’okay,” he confirms, nodding a bit.

Sam doesn’t seem to believe him, ducks down and noses through his hair before he’s satisfied, settling back. “Why’d you run off, pup?” he murmurs, sounding more tired and concerned than actually upset.

Dean sniffles a bit, can’t quite help himself. He glances in the direction Gordon had run off in, then buries his face in Sam’s chest, nuzzling in close. “I wanted to know what the smell was,” he mumbles apologetically. “It was- it was different. Smelled a little bit like you.”

“He’s an alpha.” Bobby sighs, scrubs a hand down his face. “He was following an alpha scent. It’s good you brought him here, Sam. Kid needs to learn about this stuff.”

Dean frowns, peeks up at Sam as the older weres’ arms curl around him. “Alpha?” he repeats softly. It makes him remember Gordon’s words, and he frowns. “When he said… he said I was a- a bitch.”

“He had no right to call you that.” Sam’s words are immediate and soothing, and he reaches up to smooth his fingers through Dean’s hair again. “We’re going to explain everything, I promise. There’s someone you’re going to meet, someone who’s like you, and she’s going to explain everything, baby, don’t worry.”

It only takes a couple more minutes for Sam to convince Dean to come back to the center of camp, and from there, he’s introduced to Ellen Harvelle, one of the pack’s omegas.

-

They end up staying the night with Bobby, just because there’s so much for Dean to learn. Sam stays with him as long as possible, but it’s not long until Ellen shoos him away, insisting that the whole thing’s going to be embarrassing enough for Dean “without his damn alpha breathing down his neck.”

It’s Ellen who teaches Dean what an alpha is at all, what betas are, and, perhaps most importantly, what he is- an omega. He learns about his status, about heats, about knotting and pregnancy, and he can’t help but agree about it being embarrassing. Mostly, he’s just fascinated by this whole side of himself that’s going to start appearing over the next couple years, wonders how it’s going to affect his life.

Ellen talks about mating, about how he’ll have to find his own alpha someday to settle down with. It’s the only part Dean’s not so sure he agrees with, because he’s perfectly happy just staying with Sam who, to his knowledge, is an alpha, anyways, so maybe everything will work out in that regard.

Sam does get to hang around for part of the lessons- specifically, the parts about Dean going into heat. Ellen tells him very explicitly what to expect, and Dean has to stifle a laugh when he sees the pink tinting Sam’s cheeks. Dean’s not sure he really understands what a heat’s going to feel like, but it doesn’t seem like something to look forward to, so he decides not to think about it for the moment. 

They’re ready to head out soon enough, sent off with hugs from Ellen, their usual invitation to visit whenever they want from Bobby, and Sam seems a hell of a lot calmer than he had when they got there in the first place.

-

Dean’s eleven years old when he wakes up human, sweating, and letting out little whimpers because every time he moves he can feel Sam’s fur brush against his oversensitive skin and it feels so good it _hurts._

Sam wakes up seconds later, animal eyes wide with concern, and then he’s shifting, hands moving to grab Dean’s face gently. Even that touch is too much, not enough, and Dean’s squirming, breathing soft and uneven.

“Dean? Baby, what’s wrong?” he whispers, but then he inhales and his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack for a moment before he gives his head a sharp shake. Sam swallows hard, takes a moment to visibly regain control of himself before speaking again, voice rougher. “You’re in heat. You’re in heat, pup, do you remember what Ellen told you?”

Dean’s not sure he’s really in the right state of mind to think about _anything_ right then, anything except maybe the wetness he can feel between his legs, but he tries, because it’s Sam asking, Sam who smells _so damn good_ and Dean wonders if it would be acceptable to lean a little closer and lick a stripe up his chest-

Ellen. He’s supposed to be thinking about what Ellen told him. This is his heat, he realizes, the cycle Ellen told him about, and all he can really think about is that he didn’t think it would be this intense.

The one thing he manages to remember is what can make him feel better. It’s suddenly very difficult _not_ to think about it, because Sam is still so close and smells so good and his hands are so big on Dean’s face, petting his hair, and he knows for a fact that the rest of him is proportional, and the thought makes him whimper.

“Daddy,” he whispers, trying his best to crawl into Sam’s lap. They’re both naked, thank god, so it’s easy for Dean to get the skin-on-skin contact he craves. “Daddy, it _hurts_. Please, need you.”

Sam looks strained, and Dean feels his hands settle on his hips, grip tight like the older were can’t quite decide whether he wants to push him away or not. “Dean, baby, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

That definitely isn’t the answer Dean’s looking for, and he whines, low in his throat, and then he’s doing his best to grind down against Sam, looking for any relief he can get, trying to think past the all-consuming need that’s fogging his mind. “It _hurts_ ,” he repeats, barely a whimper as he presses himself as close as he can get.

Sam’s conflict is easy to see in his eyes, and Dean tries to be patient, to give him time to work through it, but it’s hard, which is a thought that leads him straight to focusing on Sam’s cock, which he can feel pressing against him where he’s huddled in Sam’s lap. He rolls his hips a little, moving on pure instinct, and he can hear the moan that Sam tries to stifle, and apparently that’s as much as the man can take.

“Okay,” he breathes, sounding defeated, but not all that torn up about it. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Just relax.”

Dean does his best to do just that, closes his eyes and presses his cheek against Sam’s shoulder. It becomes easier once he feels one of Sam’s hands stroking down his back, the other creeping a little lower. It only takes a soft ”spread your legs for me, sweetheart” before Dean’s doing it, shifting in Sam’s lap until his thighs are apart, shivers slightly when he feels cool air against all the wetness that’s dripping out of him.

“You know what this is, baby?” Sam asks softly, a couple of his fingers trailing down between Dean’s cheeks, through all the slick gathered there. “It’s so this is as easy as possible. It makes it feel better for you, makes it easy for me. You’re built for this, pup.”

When Sam’s fingertips brush over Dean’s hole, he can’t help the way he jerks, the shock of sensation sending him into another fit of soft whimpers. Sam shushes him gently, keeps up a steady pressure on the tiny puckered entrance until Dean calms down again. “I’m gonna be real gentle, baby,” he whispers. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel all better.”

By the time Sam finally presses the tip of his finger inside, Dean is soft and pliant against him, breath hitching at the penetration, fingers curling against Sam’s chest. Sam works the finger into him slowly, and it feels a little bit like relief, something that has Dean rocking back against it, chasing the sensation as best his body knows how. 

Dean doesn’t know how much time passes between the first finger and the second, the second and the third. All he can think about is _SamAlphaNeed,_ the feeling of his daddy’s fingers stretching him open, working deep inside him and making him feel good in a way he’s never experienced. Dean moans and whimpers and gasps as Sam’s fingertips brush over something deep inside him, something that makes him feel somehow, impossibly, better than he already did. He begs for more without words, just presses closer and whines and presses back on Sam’s fingers.

Sam’s free hand is in his hair, stroking through it, scratching at his scalp, and he’s whispering soothingly, promises and gentle words that have Dean relaxing even as he feels something in his stomach building, tightening, growing. He doesn’t understand the feeling, but it feels like he’s going to burst with it.

“Daddy,” he manages, voice wrecked. “It- it feels- I’m gonna…” He doesn’t know what going to happen, really, but he feels like Sam might. 

His suspicions are confirmed when Sam offers him a tiny smile, and the hand in his hair moves down, down between his legs to take hold of Dean’s cock, tiny in his grip. “Just let it happen, baby,” he whispers. “Let it go, you’ll feel so much better.”

It only takes a few pulls on his cock, another moment rubbing at that spot inside him before Dean’s cresting over some peak of pleasure, and he cries out as he spills over Sam’s hand, feels the way he tightens around Sam’s fingers. He shudders with his release, pressing close to Sam and just letting himself be held as he rides out the aftershocks.

It takes him a while to calm down enough to realize Sam’s speaking to him, whispering soothing words like _I love you_ and _so beautiful_ and _I’ve here, pup, I’ve got you_. Dean eventually comes back to himself enough to look up at Sam, blinking slow and languid, shifts a little on Sam’s fingers where they remain buried inside him. 

“Feel better now?” Sam asks softly, rocking him gently. He seems oddly content, considering Dean can still feel his cock where it rests against him, so hard he imagines it must be painful. 

Dean nods slowly, taking a moment to judge how he feels. He does feel better, actually, quite a lot. He can still feel the effects of the heat, but they’ve been toned down, enough that he finds he can push them to the back of his mind for the moment. “Better,” he agrees. “But… are you okay?” he asks, then, looks down at Sam’s cock. Before Sam can reply, Dean’s reaching down, brushing his fingers over the hard flesh, and the sound that Sam makes is something like a strangled whimper.

“I’m okay, Dean,” he manages a moment later, even though the words sound forced. “It’s just- don’t worry about it, okay?”

Dean frowns, still concerned, but decides to let it go. If Sam says he’s okay, then Dean’s going to believe him, even if he suspects otherwise. “Okay,” he sighs, closes his eyes as he curls up against Sam’s chest again. He’s exhausted, suddenly, and he’s halfway to dozing off before he even realizes it. He yawns, curls up a little tighter. “M’sleepy,” he mumbles.

Sam actually laughs, though the sound is surprised and soft, apparently mindful of Dean’s state. “Then go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, gently pulling his fingers free of Dean’s ass. Dean mumbles a protest, but he’s not quite awake enough to be properly bothered by it. It doesn’t matter a moment later, anyways, because he manages to fall asleep, warm and comfortable and, for the moment, sated.

-

The heat lasts seven days, and it alternates between being the best and worst thing Dean’s even felt, depending on the precise moment. The better times are generally when Sam’s got any number of fingers inside him, though Dean knows, somehow, that it isn’t quite enough.

He remembers some of Ellen’s lessons later, and he wonders what would be different if Sam was really, truly, his alpha. He knows Sam doesn’t have an omega of his own in that sense, not even a beta, so Dean sometimes likes to pretend that he and Sam are together like that. That someday, if he’s lucky, he’ll get to be the one to take Sam’s knot, to carry his pups. The thought gets him through the week, makes him feel warm inside, and he lets it linger even past then, until it takes root in his mind and makes the decision to stay.

He knows this isn’t the way he’s supposed to think about Sam, not really. Until the heat, though, it’s been easy not to think about, to pretend that Sam is his daddy, that he never wondered how it’d be feel to be stuffed completely full of his fingers when it wasn’t required to get him through his heat, what it’d feel like to take his cock for real. 

But ever since Sam got him through that week, worked him with his fingers, made him come so many times he lost count, Dean hasn’t been able to look at the man in quite the same way. It builds and builds, and he manages to make it through a couple more heats like that, just taking whatever Sam’s willing to give him- so much, but not enough, never enough- until one day, he can’t take it anymore.

He’s not really sure what triggers it. There’s nothing especially upsetting about the day, when he’s twelve years old and cuddling with Sam. Sam’s a wolf for now, though Dean remains human, skinny arms curled around Sam’s neck, just holding him tight, not quite dozing. It’s like any other day, and maybe, in the end, that’s what sets him off. They’ve been like this for so long, and Dean wonders if they’re always going to be like this, or if maybe Sam will find himself a mate and leave him, if someday they won’t be together.

Sam seems to realize Dean’s crying before he realizes it himself, gently licks the tears off his face and gives him a concerned look.

 _What’s wrong, pup?_ And he sounds concerned, too. Dean can’t really blame him, when he’s just crying out of nowhere, so he just sniffles a little, wonders how he can possibly even begin to explain.

“I love you, Daddy,” is what he ends up saying, the words muffled when he buries his face in Sam’s neck.

As expected, the words don’t help Sam at all. _I know, baby. I love you, too. But…_ He pauses a moment, sounds more than a little confused. _Why are you crying?_

“S’not what I mean,” Dean mumbles, and he’s completely miserable now that he’s actually trying to get Sam to understand. He doesn’t know how to explain it, doesn’t have the words to express what he feels.

Sam takes a moment to shift their positioning, curls up in a protective circle around Dean before nosing gently at his cheek. _What do you mean, then?_ He sounds gentle, patient, like he understands that Dean’s getting frustrated, and it just makes Dean upset all over again, because he just loves Sam _so much._

Dean sniffles a little, shifts so he can kiss Sam on the nose. “I already said it,” he mumbles, and he thinks he might be blushing a little bit. 

Sam perks up a bit, ears standing straight at attention. _What was that for?_

Dean looks away, finds himself unable to meet Sam’s searching gaze. “S’cause I love you,” he says softly, can’t think of any other way to explain himself. 

Sam tilts his head, ducks down to lick Dean’s cheek. _And I love you, too. But what’s this about?_

“I just told you!” Dean’s starting to get frustrated again, but now it’s manifesting as watering eyes, and he blinks furiously to try to will the tears away. He just wants Sam to _understand_ , wishes he could read his mind more effectively than their mental communication allows. 

Sam seems to be getting upset, keeps Dean pressed close to his body and starts giving him tiny licks, cleaning the tears off his cheeks, letting his tongue rasp over his neck, his bare shoulders. When he replies, he sounds sad. _I’m sorry, pup. I don’t understand._

Dean knows that already, he thinks, so he just sniffles again, snuggles closer and curls his fingers into Sam’s thick fur. He closes his eyes, tries to let himself relax against Sam’s body and figure out better words to use. 

“I love you,” he repeats softly. It’s the most important part of all this, he thinks. “And- and it’s all messed up, and m’not s’posed to.” His voice cracks a little, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight on another wave of tears. “And I dunno what to do.”

Sam whines softly, noses gently at Dean’s hair. He just sounds confused all over again. _Of course you’re supposed to love me. Why wouldn’t you?_

This is the part that Dean’s struggling with, but he does his best to explain. “’Cause you’re my daddy,” he mumbles, manages to disregard Sam’s usual pulse of happiness in response to the title. “But… but I wanna kiss you and stuff.” He’d learned a little bit about romantic love from his time with Ellen, and just time spent around the pack generally. He’d seen the way mates interact with each other, enough to know that it’s what he wants with Sam. Enough that he knows he isn’t _supposed_ to want it with Sam.

Apparently, it’s that particular explanation that finally makes it click for Sam, because his eyes go wide and it takes him a moment to respond. _You want to be my mate._ It doesn’t sound like a question, and Dean’s glad, because he’s not sure he’d have been able to respond to it properly. He nods all the same, holds his breath and hopes that Sam doesn’t tell him to leave or something. He’s not sure he’d be able to make it on his own, assuming he’d even want to without Sam around.

 _How long?_ Sam’s response is gentle, more so than Dean was expecting, and he hesitantly looks up, still clutching Sam’s fur tight.

“A while,” he whispers, nervous. “I… didn’t know if it was different. Than loving you like my daddy.”

Sam nods slowly, confirming something Dean had already known. _You don’t have to decide this right now._ And that’s not the response Dean expected at all, and he doesn’t get much of a chance to think them over before Sam continues. _You’ve got lots of time to find an alpha, if you want. You shouldn’t feel pressured to pick so soon-_

“I don’t love you because I’m _pressured,_ ” Dean interrupts, almost insulted. “I love you because- because I love you.” He sniffles a little, looks away. “S’okay if you want me to leave. I know I shouldn’t, and- and you prob’ly wanna find a pretty girl, or- or something.”

Sam’s tongue smooths down his back, over his shoulders, soothing his unease, and Dean settles again. _I don’t want anyone else, pup._ The reassurance is soft, and Dean looks up at Sam with wide eyes. _You’re the only one I want. When I figured out you were an omega…_ He huffs, shakes his head. _I was dreading the day you found some other alpha to take care of you. Someone who would take you away from me._

“I don’t want another alpha,” Dean says immediately, sits up a little bit without pulling away. “I don’t want to leave you. Never.” He wraps his arms tight around Sam’s neck again, hugs him tight, breathes in his familiar scent. “Just you, Daddy. Just you and me, forever.”

 _Forever,_ Sam repeats. He sounds happy and relieved and he curls tight around Dean, nuzzles him gently. _I love you, Dean. More than anything._

It’s more than enough to settle Dean’s heart, and he smiles soft, presses himself close. Maybe they still have a lot to figure out, but this, what they have here- this is good for now.

-

Even once they’ve agreed on their feelings for each other, Sam still, apparently, feels the need to set some ground rules. He insists that Dean’s too young to do everything he wants to do, even if he’s in heat and aching for Sam’s knot. Thirteen, he says, they have to wait until Dean turns thirteen before they can go all the way. Dean doesn’t like it, but he’s settled by the fact that there are other things Sam will let him do in the meantime.

Sam’s usually human when he takes care of Dean during his heats, but the first time he stays a wolf, Dean can’t quite decide which he likes better. He thinks Sam’s going to shift at first, the way he usually does when they wake up to Dean’s heat, but instead, Sam just nudges him gently, rolls him onto his hands and knees, trembling as he is, and moves up behind him. 

Dean stays where he is, eyes closed, forehead resting on the soft furs underneath him, and he has no idea what to expect until he feels Sam’s tongue, his damn _tongue_ sliding warm and wet up between his cheeks. He cries out in pleasure and surprise, spreads his legs a little farther apart, and it seems to be all the encouragement Sam needs to really go to town.

Sam takes his time tasting every bit of Dean, licking up the slick from the insides of his thighs, shifting low enough to lap at his cock, spends enough time working at his hole that it’s soft and pliant under his attentions, enough that he’s able to get just inside the rim with his tongue, tugging at it gently. Dean’s near sobbing with pleasure by the time he comes, shaking hard with the orgasm and letting Sam work him through it. Sam’s a little more adventurous after that, more willing to experiment, and it always ends in pleasure for one if not both of them.

It takes an upsettingly long time for Sam to agree to let Dean try to take care of him. He keeps trying to insist that Dean’s too young, that he’s okay without the help, but then Dean gets upset, worries that maybe Sam doesn’t think he’ll be any good, and that’s enough to have Sam caving, giving Dean free reign to do as he likes.

As it turns out, Dean’s a quick learner in more than just hunting and gathering. It doesn’t take him very long to learn exactly how to use his hands- and, later, his mouth- to have Sam falling apart, to make him feel just as good as Sam’s been making him feel for a couple years now. Dean never fails to be incredibly pleased with himself when he makes Sam come, absolutely beams at him, and that in itself never fails to have Sam chuckling breathlessly, pulling Dean in close to cuddle after they’re done.

By the time Dean’s thirteenth birthday rolls around, they’re both pretty well-versed in each other’s bodies, and they’re both more than ready to finally take the final step in their physical relationship. Dean spends most of the day on edge, all but vibrating with poorly-concealed excitement as they go about their daily business. Birthday or no, there are chores to be done, food to be caught, and Dean has no intention of complaining about it, lest he put Sam in a bad mood. 

Somehow, the day seems to last a thousand years and a single second, because Dean can’t decide whether it’s been too long or not long enough when he finds himself curled up with Sam on their bed of furs, Sam pressing a smattering of kisses down his chest. He pauses every couple inches, looks up at Dean like he’s silently asking for permission, and Dean just manages a bit of a dazed nod whenever he needs to give a response.

Dean’s good and wet by the time Sam’s fingers get thrown into the mix, and it’s like the other times they’ve done this in the past, like every time Sam’s worked him open with his fingers. But he knows this is different, because this time is real, this time they’re going all the way, and he’s not sure if he’s excited or nervous or somewhere in between.

His biggest comfort is that Sam’s taking this slow and careful, like he’s just as worried. He murmurs constant reassurances to Dean, strokes his free hand along Dean’s stomach or thighs, presses kisses to any bit of skin he can reach while he moves on to two fingers, three. It’s almost a routine by now, if an extremely pleasurable one, and Dean’s letting out soft whines, pressing back on Sam’s fingers and all but writhing in anticipation.

“I’ve got you, pup,” Sam murmurs, and Dean realizes that this is it, this is really happening. Sam’s pulling his fingers out slowly, teases them briefly around Dean’s loosened rim before adjusting his position slightly, moving until he’s hovering over Dean, and Dean feels the nudge of Sam’s cock at his hole. This is it. “Ready?”

And Dean can’t do anything but give a wide-eyed nod, moves to wrap his arms around Sam’s neck, hitches his legs up a little higher to give Sam more access, and suddenly Sam’s moving, pushing forward and _in_ , and in every fantasy he’s ever conjured, every single scenario his imagination has cooked up in regards to this moment, Dean has never once accurately imagined how it would feel to have Sam’s cock inside him.

It’s like his fingers, almost, but better, thicker, longer, and it feels like it’s meant to be there, like something’s slotting into place after so long being missing. Dean’s breath catches, and he arches up slowly, pressing into Sam, shifts to wrap his legs tight around his alpha’s waist as Sam pushes in deeper, moving slow and steady. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, and they’re both panting for breath, and Sam leans down and kisses him, slow and soft, sucks Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers into the kiss, not quite pulling away. Dean doesn’t want him to pull away, not ever, so he’s happy about it.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, just as soft. He tightens his legs around Sam a little, even if he’s still small and can’t match Sam’s strength worth a damn. “More than okay.”

That’s all the approval Sam needs, apparently, because he leans in just long enough to whisper “tell me if I need to stop” before he’s pulling out, almost all the way, then slams home again.

Of all things, Dean’s pretty sure he’d never have guessed Sam to be the type to do these things hard and fast like this, but he can’t really blame him. Dean knows he’s been waiting for this, at least a couple years. He can’t imagine how it must feel on Sam’s end, especially since he’d have known exactly what he was missing.

It’s not hard to settle into the pace, to just cling tight and let Sam take what he wants. Sam seems to be regressing, a little bit, not so much in terms of age as in evolution, because there’s something absolutely primal about the way he’s moving, the way he’s clutching Dean, ducking down to nip and suck at his skin. He’s growling, too, things Dean can’t quite make out, but it sounds a little like _mine_ , like _Dean_ and _my pup_ and _my pretty bitch_. The possessive edge just spurs Dean on, encourages him to start pushing back into the brutal thrusts, rocking his hips and angling them just so until Sam brushes over that spot inside him that has him crying out in pleasure, fingernails digging into Sam’s back.

Dean loses track of time while they’re like that, rutting together like the animals they, at their cores, are. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, not until he feels something starting to tug at his rim as Sam thrusts in and out. It doesn’t scare him, not like it maybe should, too far-gone to be especially worried. Sam will take care of him. His alpha knows best, knows what he’s doing, and Dean trusts that this is something expected.

He’s proven right a moment later when Sam leans in close, nips at his earlobe before speaking, voice low and rough. “Feel that, pup? That’s my knot. Gonna swell up, lock us together, fill you up with my come. S’gonna plug you up, too, make sure I can breed you properly, fill you up with my puppies.”

Dean actually whimpers, the words sending an unexpected thrill of pleasure through him. He feels Sam smile against his skin. “You like that? You want to be my good little omega, good little bitch? Bet you’d look so pretty full of my pups, baby.”

Dean’s not sure what, exactly, finally pushes him over the edge. If it’s the feeling of Sam’s cock hitting his prostate dead-on, or the words being whispered in his ear. Regardless, that’s when he comes, harder than he ever has, because he can _feel_ Sam’s cock inside him, feel the swelling of his knot, and it’s so much better, somehow, so much more. 

Sam groans, pushes into him one last time before they’re locked together. He doesn’t last long, either, comes with a gasp of Dean’s name and buries his face in his omega’s neck, shuddering.

Once Dean’s calmed down a little after his orgasm, he works up enough ambition to start stroking Sam’s back, mumbling soothing nonsense in his ear as his alpha works through his climax. It’s long, drawn-out, and even once Sam rolls over carefully and pulls Dean into his chest, Dean can still feel wave after wave of come being pumped into him. It makes him wonder how likely it is that he’ll catch the first time around.

They don’t talk for a long time, content in their silence as they both bask in the afterglow. Eventually, though, Sam speaks, quiet, whispers in Dean’s ear.

“You want that?” He sounds almost awed, and Dean’s confused until he continued. “To have a family? To have my pups?”

And then Dean smiles a little, nods, tucks his head under Sam’s chin. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I really do.” Maybe it’s the hormones talking, but in that moment, he can’t think of anything more appealing than feeling his belly swell with Sam’s children. He can almost imagine it now, reaching down to press his hand to his tummy, down near his pelvis. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he can feel Sam’s cock where it’s still settled inside him, and the thought makes him shiver.

“I love you, pup,” Sam whispers, pulling Dean close. He presses a kiss to the omega’s forehead, cradles him close. “So much, baby, more than anything.”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles again, closes his eyes, tries to imagine how their children would look. “Love you, too, Daddy.”

-

Dean doesn’t catch that first time, but a few weeks after his next heat- and several rounds of incredibly enthusiastic lovemaking, complete with the proper knotting the other ones have lacked- there’s a distinct bump forming where his previously flat belly should have been. Dean smiles to himself as he runs his hand over it, wonders how long it’ll be until Sam notices.

It doesn’t take long at all, as it turns out. It’s a morning, Sam going through his usual greeting of sniffing Dean all over, and he freezes, eyes going wide before he gathers Dean close, holds him tight and gentle and whispers about how perfect he is, how beautiful, what a good mother he’s going to be.

Dean curls close, rests a hand over Sam’s where it’s settled on his belly. He thinks he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> For any of you following Beyond Two Winchesters: I'm totally working on the next chapter. Absolutely. This is like... a mini vacation. So I had an excuse to write some porn and some baby Dean and some pseudo-bestiality. That's all, and thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Edit: it's been brought to my attention that BTW is the most deceptive acronym I possibly could have used (I intended to be referencing my multi-chapter, oh dear), and it seems that people have been misled about this being continued. Though I'm definitely considering doing more with the 'verse, this story was intended as a oneshot, so. Sorry about that, everyone.


End file.
